Rehabilitation
by PetchricorXConstellation
Summary: A nightmare, stolen crayons, and musings on the past all equal what? Wash's realization to what had rehabilitated him. *Rated T for some swearing*


**I got this idea while rewatching season 6 of Red vs Blue, and I decided to place it up here. Enjoy!**

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_"Goddamn it David, get up on your feet and get your head in the game!" Epsilon's voice ringed out in Wash's head. Wash stood up, clutching his bleeding side and running passed the building and out into the battle field. With Epsilon shouting at him Wash wasn't exactly in his right mind at the moment, but he was sure he had hit the right targets as he ran through the battle field. One last target. He fired._

_"SOUTH!" he heard North scream. Someone yanked his gun out of his hand and shoved him to the ground, aiming the weapon back at him. Wash shook his head violently and turned to see South laying on the ground, holding her gut that was dripping blood. Who had shot South? "Wash, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Wash saw North kneeling by his sister, glaring at him from behind his helmet. Wash narrowed his eyes, confused. He shot South? But he could have sworn she was an enemy soldier...  
_

__Wash's eyes jolted open and he stared at the ceiling above him as he forced his breathing to even out. He slowly sat up and cursed as he heard Tucker and Caboose arguing outside the base. Of all the mornings, this was the worst one for them to be doing this on. Wash stood up and pulled on his boots, grabbing his jacket and pulling it over his shoulders as he walked down the halls. As always a cup of coffee was sitting on the kitchen counter-top for him. He grabbed it and took a sip as he walked outside to find Caboose and Tucker screaming at each other. He sighed with a tiny yawn mixed in. He really didn't need this.

"All right, all right! Settle down!" Wash screamed, getting both to stop yelling and look over as he took another sip of his coffee. He set it down on a rock like he always did and walked towards them, folding his arms over his chest and giving an irritated look, but also making it look as stern as possible. "What's the matter now?" Wash winced and growled angrily as both started to talk at once, pointing fingers at each other. "QUIET!" Both became silent and looked back at him. "one at a time. Caboose, what happened? And talk slowly, ok? I just got up."

"Tucker stole my crayons and wont admit it!" Caboose told Wash, giving Tucker a childish look.

"Why the hell would I steal your crayons?!" Tucker shouted, putting his arms up in the air as though he believed it would help prove his point to the younger soldier. Wash let out a long irritated sigh and rubbed his face with his right palm. He looked over at Caboose.

"Tucker didn't steal your crayons, Caboose," he told him. Caboose pouted and looked over at Tucker, who nodded triumphantly. Wash let out another sigh, this time without irritation. "I did." Both stared at Wash in shock, Tucker with is mouth hanging open. Wash reached his hand out and shut his mouth. "You'll catch flies," he warned. "Come on Caboose, they're in my room." The two then walked inside the base, Tucker still not sure what to think about Wash's response. Why had he taken Caboose's crayons?

After a few moments of looking through his beside-drawer he finally found them in their box under his bunk. He handed the box to Caboose and the blue soldier hugged his crayons, thanked him, and walked away with a bounce in his step. Wash sighed and lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. After a few short moments of thinking there was a knock at his door, it being a light tapping told him that it was Caboose. He looked over at the slightly opened door and motioned for him to enter. Caboose walked in and gave Wash a look that you might find on a child who just had a nightmare, and he was pale too. Wash sat up the instant he noticed it.

"Caboose, what is it? What's wrong?" Wash asked, worry entering his voice. Caboose took his hands out from behind his back and handed Wash a piece of paper. At first he didn't understand, but then he flipped it over and he swallowed nervously. On the paper was a drawing of Wash, it was well-done too (considering it was done with crayons) and it was doubled over holding his head. In the background you could see the Director and Counselor just watching as Wash screamed. There was blood all over the floor and you could see Epsilon's hologram hovering a few feet away from his head. Wash had drawn it. "Caboose, where did you find this?"

"It was stuck to the back of the crayon box," Caboose said timidly. Wash looked up at Caboose, who was looking back at him. Without another word Caboose walked out of the room. Wash looked down at the picture. When Wash first met Caboose he had been struggling to keep his sanity. Sure, he told everyone he was fine but he really was just hanging by a thread. The only thing that kept him going was the fact that he had to defeat the Meta.

But then he met the others. The reds and the blues, they were stupid, reckless, and very annoying, but Wash now realized that he wouldn't want them any other way. He smiled a bit. Hanging out with Caboose taught him how to stay positive no matter how hard things got, Simmons taught him to always stay sharp, Sarge taught him to never give up and to knuckle down, Tucker taught him how to not give a fuck but how to care at the same time, Church taught him that you have to be tense but look out for your team as well, and Grif taught him that even though things are hectic, you will always need a tiny break to calm down, even if it's just taking a deep breath.

These six people, these six idiots, these six sim. troopers, these six friends. They were what made him learn how to hold himself together, how to cope with his troubles and forgive and forget. Even though their arguments were annoying, stupid, and useless, they made the time go by a little faster. But the best part was that they didn't care about his past. They didn't care that his AI deleted itself inside his head, they didn't care that he was a Freelancer, and hell, he was pretty sure they didn't even care about how he had betrayed them anymore! All they cared about was that he was here now and that he had their back. And he had theirs.

Wash smiled and tore up the picture, tossing the pieces in his trash can as he lay back down on his bunk, still having a smile. They took him out of the dark, into the light, and showed him that just because bad things happen doesn't mean you can't still crack a joke and have some fun along the way. He chuckled a bit. They were his rehabilitation.


End file.
